


Losing You

by Nona__AM



Series: OQAngstFest [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, OQAngstFest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nona__AM/pseuds/Nona__AM
Summary: Written for #OQAngstFestDay one, Friday.Prompt(s) number: (1, 2, 11, 17, 18)





	Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> The fic started out decent and then it went downhill. I blame that on my lack of sleep and a few medical issues that popped out of nowhere in the past two days. So, I apologize for that!
> 
> TW: Major Character Death.

* * *

Love was never something Regina Mills considered. It only existed in romance movies and children’s fairytale books, places where happy endings were a possibility, but not in real life. 

Certainly not in hers.

Growing up, she was exposed to betrayals and heartbreaks. Endless fights turned into hatred that painted all men as liars and cheaters to her. That’s how all the men she’d come across were. Awful. Never satisfied with what they had. She could recall about a dozen who manipulated her mother for their own selfish needs after her father passed away, and her boss who was caught by his wife with his tongue down another woman’s throat, and Uncle Leo who cheated on Aunt Ava, while pregnant, no less. So, she was better off without love, if that’s how love disguised itself as. Without worrying over toxic relationships and how to end them.

But then _he_ came into her life like a breath of fresh air and swept her off her feet.

It began as a cliché romcom would. A man bumping into a woman in the middle of a swamped coffee shop and pouring his scalding beverage over her blouse. Really, that’s how they met. And yes, it did hurt. A lot. He apologized profusely and ran around the place, gathering as many napkins as he could find—not that they helped at all, but it was the thought that counted. Her white, sheer blouse was completely drenched, and it didn’t help that her lacy, black bra was in full display for everyone to ogle, which, a few definitely did. But the man removed his jacket and offered it to her, not taking no for an answer when she declined. 

_“It’s the least I could do,”_ he pressed, and she reluctantly accepted. 

They exchanged numbers, for the sole purpose of returning his jacket, of course…but it led to more. 

He went from being the handsome, British stranger who accidentally burned her with his vanilla latte, to Robin. 

Robin with the soft, blue eyes and a set of deep dimples that made her heart stutter and knees grow weak. 

Robin, who made her laugh until her belly began to hurt and she was in tears at his wittiness and the utterly stupid pick-up lines he was so full of. 

Robin…the man laying in bed beside her, stark naked as the day he was born, with one, strong arm draped over her waist and his face buried in the crook of her neck. 

It didn’t mean anything, though. 

Well, not quite. 

It wasn’t _meaningless_ sex. Had it been just that, they wouldn’t cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms every single time it happened. But it wasn’t anything more. 

They were friends with benefits, because that was all she could offer him. 

He didn’t like that idea, though. He wanted all of her—he wanted to take her out on dates, wanted to hold her hand in public, steal a kiss or two while they were out and about. Everything she didn’t want, because it was far out of her comfort zone. 

And she didn’t want to lose what they had. 

The chemistry was there, clear as day. They were both attracted to one another, to let all that go to waste would be tragic, but to give in for more than what she could handle would be a mistake. 

Because, sooner or later, a relationship would end, and pain would follow. 

It was too much to bother with. And, at the end of the day, she was just a human being. Of course she craved being touched in certain ways. Ached to be kissed and held…just without any titles included. 

It worked out fine. They’d been at it for a little under a year. Sure, she improvised and gave into the idea of knocking down a few rules for Robin’s sake. It was only fair. She let him hold her hand in public—rather, she held his one day, catching him off guard, and she let him take her out for dinner every so often. Though, it was strictly _not_ a date. Just dinner. Between two _friends_. 

* * *

“You love her, don’t you?”

It wasn’t something Robin expected to come out of the mouth of his eight-year-old godson. But again, little Henry had always been an observant child. Too wise for his age, that boy. 

Robin let out a breathy chuckle and threw the ball across the park for the seventy-pounds Golden Retriever to fetch again. “It’s…complicated.” 

Henry scoffed. “No it isn’t. You either love her or you don’t.”

Oh, so naïve. 

The thing was, he did love Regina. He’d sell his soul to the devil for things to be as easy as going up to her and blurting it out. But she’d run away. He knew her enough to know his confession would only ruin things between them. And he’d rather have whatever part she was willing to give than not have any of her at all. 

“I think you should just tell her that you love her if you do.” Henry nodded in determination, crouching down beside him to scratch behind the dog’s ear when it dropped the ball in front of them for another toss. “But you should get her some chocolate first. Everyone loves chocolate, it makes them happy.”

Robin’s lips twisted into a thin smile. A box of chocolate wouldn’t make the situation any better, but he’d humor the boy. “Any certain type?” 

“Her favorite, Uncle Robin,” Henry huffed out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it was. He should’ve gone with that guess. 

“Right…”

“What is her favorite chocolate anyways?” 

Thinking about it, Regina didn’t really have a favorite. Sometimes she enjoyed Payday, sometimes Reese’s Peanut Buttercups, and sometimes she loathed both and went with Three Musketeers. It all depended on the mood she was in. 

“Not sure,” he admitted, eliciting a gasp out of the boy. “No, no. I _do_ know what she likes, it’s just…she’s complicated.”

“Everything is complicated with you,” Henry muttered. “Adults are weird.” 

Robin laughed. “Okay, come on, buddy. Time to go home.” 

“Can we order in pizza?”

“I don’t know, Henry. Your mom said no pizza…” 

“She doesn’t have to know,” Henry whispered, flashing him a cheeky grin. And truly, who could ever say no to that?

He gave in. Obviously. He always gave in when it came to Henry. Everyone did. 

So, pizza for dinner it was.

* * *

“You’re awfully quiet,” Regina whispered, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Robin flinched under her, but didn’t speak, only responded with a hum. 

It was unlike him to be so…distant after sex. He was usually loose-lipped, talking about everything that came to his mind until one of them fell asleep. And he didn’t utter a single word since she rolled off him. Actually, he hasn’t been himself since he returned from babysitting his godson. They spoke over the phone later that evening, barely. He seemed distracted, humming and _ahh_ ’ing during most of their conversation, before ending it with the excuse of being tired. 

“Robin, what’s wrong?” She sighed, the hand resting atop of his chest soothing over his bare skin. 

His mouth opened, but closed soon after, and he shook his head. “Nothing,” he muttered. 

As if. 

He wouldn’t look so troubled if it was nothing, like he was carrying an enormous burden over his shoulders. 

“No,” she argued, because she was just as stubborn as he was, and something clearly wasn’t right. “No secrets, remember? We said that from the very beginning. We keep no secrets from each other.” And he never did. He disclosed it all. He told her about his dead father and neglectful mother, and the man she married later on, the abusive bastard who left him with the long scar that stretched over his left arm. He told her about his good days and bad days—so what’s changed this time? 

“It’s nothing, Regina,” he insisted. 

“Then why have you been sulking all day?” she shot back, folding her arms in front her, both brows risen as she waited for his response. Whatever pathetic excuse he might have. But he didn’t say anything. He looked away and sighed. “I can read you like an open book, Robin. Don’t lie to me. Please, we said no secrets when we made that deal—“ 

“It’s that damned deal!” he snapped. 

His voice strained, tone stern. It was unlike anything Regina’d ever heard coming from him before. 

Robin was a gentle soul. He rarely ever got mad. The entire year she’d known him for, she never saw him shout at anyone, not even that idiot who accidentally rammed into his car while trying to reverse. He was civil, approached the man with a smile, no hostility whatsoever. They worked out in a matter of minutes and parted with a friendly handshake. 

“I want you, Regina. I want you so bad.” He chuckled bitterly, roughly running a hand through his short, honey-brown hair. “But I…I can never have you, not all of you.” 

His jaw clenched, and even though he tried to hide it by looking the other direction, she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. The stuttered breath he took would’ve gave it away if not. 

It wasn’t meaningless, what they had, but it was meant to be harmless. And this, this wasn’t. 

“Robin—“

“If you’d just give me a chance,” he implored.

“We’ve been through this before. Robin, I can’t—“

“I love you,” he blurted out, gesturing a hand toward her. “There, I said it. I love you.” 

The world stopped and the room fell quiet. 

He _what_? 

She knew he liked her, but _love_?

Oh no. No, no. 

Her heartbeat picked up and breathing seemed impossible, every puff of air she inhaled was suffocating. It felt like the world was closing in on her. 

“Regina…”

“Get out,” she muttered. 

“Please, I’m—“

“Get out,” she repeated, and when he made no effort to move, she snapped. “Didn’t you hear me? I said leave me alone!” 

* * *

He should’ve fought harder. Argued. Done _something_ to fix what he’d broken.

But he didn’t.

He climbed out of bed and scrambled into his clothes, because being stubborn would only add fuel to the fire. There was no use in wasting either of their breaths. It wouldn’t end well.

It didn’t end well. 

The worse of it all, though, was that it ended. 

“Be—before I go,” he stammered, then cleared his throat to keep his voice steady. Strong. Even so, it trembled as he spoke. “I just…Regina, you deserve the world, even if you think you don’t deserve anything at all. You do. And I hope you find it in you one day to open yourself up to love. I hope one day you let yourself feel the way I feel toward you, and when you do.” He paused. A tear sneaking its way down his cheek when he closed his eyes and heaved a long breath. “And when you do, don’t…don’t let fear stand in the way. Tell them you love them, because I promise, as scary as it might be, it’ll be worth it.” 

Especially if the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, in his case, it wasn’t. But he didn’t regret admitting his feelings to her. He never would. Because maybe, just maybe, it was all about timing. Maybe he’d be that someone she’d say those words to one day. 

He didn’t wait for her to react. He gathered his belongings and left, slamming the door shut behind him. Closing a chapter in his life he never intended for to end so soon, to be left without a happy ending. 

But it happened.

There were forces beyond his control.

* * *

It’s been a month. Thirty darn days since Robin walked out of her house, and her life, too. And she tried to move on, to forget everything he said, everything that had to do with him. But she couldn’t. Anywhere she turned, she was reminded of him. 

Her cream couch and all the endless hours they spent lounging on it, and cuddling during their usual Friday movie nights. He’d warn her against horror movies and she, stubborn as always, argued, then instantly regretted it, asking him to spend the night with her. 

After the second time, he came prepared with an overnight bag. 

They had their little tradition, where they’d stop by the grocery store and throw in all the junk food they could find into their cart in preparation for their movie night. They’d order in a large pepperoni pizza and dump everything they bought in bowls, the chocolate chip cookies he was so crazy about, the peanut M&M’s she loved, some pretzels and chips and, of course, popcorn. Because what movie night would be completed without popcorn? And he made the best salted caramel popcorns, and she didn’t even _like_ caramel popcorn. It was far too sweet to be enjoyable. 

But his was, and she liked helping him with it—and that was the reason why the kitchen was just as unbearable to be in. 

They cooked in there together. It was where they made the marinara sauce she promised him was the best he’d ever taste, and the idiot added sugar instead of salt. Letting all their troubles go to waste. And it was where he insisted on baking a cake late in the evening. Odd request, who’d bake a cake at ten? But she went with it, only to realize he was waiting for the clock to strike twelve to so he could be the first to wish her a happy birthday and gift her the lopsided, chocolate cake. 

Her bedroom wasn’t an exception. Laying there in the bed they shared for so many nights was awful, it felt so empty. It felt wrong laying where no one laid beside her anymore, so she didn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, until exhaustion won and darkness surrounded her. Even then, it wasn’t a restful slumber. A couple of hours and dreams of the lost opportunities wasn’t much of a shuteye. 

Regina sighed. It was nearing midnight and she was still wide awake. Nothing that normally put her to sleep helped. She read a book, hoping that skimming through a few pages would bore her and get the job done, but she ended up reading the entire thing. She nursed a warm cup of milk, fixing it the way Robin used to make it for her by adding a spoonful of sugar, a small splash of rosewater, a pinch of ground cardamom and a handful of slivered almonds. It was weirdly delicious, and it knocked her right out. This time, there was no such luck. 

She shifted onto her back and kicked the quilt off with a huff. It was getting ridiculously hotter by the second, which made no sense, they were in the middle of November. It wasn’t meant to feel like the inside of an oven. 

“God!” she grouched, pushing herself up into a sitting position, and that’s when she smelled it. 

Smoke. Like something was…burning. Oh. 

With her heart lodged in her throat, Regina climbed off her bed and approached the door, unlocking it and opening it with a trembly hand, only to be greeted by dancing shadows of scorching flames, igniting further and burning away at her humble home.

She didn’t think twice, bolting down the stairs and into where the fire had started to reach for the exit. Adrenaline pumping through her, giving her the strength to get her shaky legs going. 

This wasn't the way she wanted to go. She wanted to live a long life with no regrets, die of old age, restful on her bed, not eaten alive by the blaze.

“Fuck,” Regina hissed when her palm made contact with the burning, metal doorknob. She swallowed a sob and sniffled, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes to clear her misted vision. “If…if I get out, I’ll do better.” It was a broken promise, but it was all she could think of as she wrapped the hem of her short-sleeved, pajama top around the knob and twisted, hoping the door would open. But goddammit, it was stuck.

She’ll come clean to her mother about how her favorite ceramic vase broke when she was six-years-old. Admit that it was her, not the dog. 

“Come on,” she grunted, twisting harder. 

Tell her sister, Zelena, that she took her white Prada purse without her permission and hid it away when her perfume broke and spilled inside it. That she knew all along and lied about never seeing it before. 

“Please…”

And she’ll talk to Robin again. 

She’ll do it. She’ll tell him that she couldn’t stop thinking about him ever since he left on that day. Tell him she missed the scent of his stupid cologne that smelled like pinewood and nature, the one she always teased him over and claimed she hated. She didn’t, though. It was comforting. And she missed how he’d wake her up in the middle of the night with his snores, and instead of being mad at the disturbance, she’d sit there, chuckling at the sounds coming from him. They were loud and horrendous. 

And she’ll confess that she loved him, too.

_Click._

Brimming with relief, Regina pulled the door open and stumbled out, smacking right into someone. 

* * *

It was late, too late in the evening, and she might not even want to see him. But his heart took him there. Pulled him out of the comfort of his bed at eleven-thirty and dragged him to her house. 

He hesitated a few times on the way, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and second-guessed his decision. There’d been no contact between them for a whole month—maybe she wasn’t ready to see him yet. 

Maybe he should give her some more time. More space. She had his number, she’d call whenever she was.

Only, something didn’t feel quite right. It was his every intention to turn back and return home, but this awful feeling, a terrible hunch eating at him that led him down another block to her home. 

He always followed his instinct, regardless of whether it was the right thing to do or not. And this time, it was. 

The house was up in flames. A large crowd gathered outside, men and women, even curious children peeked out of their windows, cladded in their nightclothes. A few people were on the phone, probably calling for help, but no one dared to go in. They strayed as far as they could from the fire. It was the smart thing to do. 

But he was never the wisest. 

He pushed through them, ignoring their cries and warnings—to hell with all that. Regina was _in there_. 

Robin leapt up the front porch stairs, and before his hand could reach for the door handle, it opened, and Regina slammed right into him, coughing violently. He wasted no time wrapping her up in his arms and carrying her away. 

He set her down on her feet and moved back, frantically inspecting every inch of her for any burns, any wounds or bruises. There were a couple, nothing major, nothing that required instant medical attention. 

Thank God. 

He let go of the breath he was holding and pulled her in for another tight hug, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Are you okay?” 

She responded with a sniffle and a nod, burrowing her small frame further into his embrace. 

“You’re okay,” he promised, “you’re safe. I’ve got you.” 

She was trembling against him—the poor soul. Her hands clutching onto his shirt for dear life, and he wasn’t planning on letting go. Not again. 

Not ever. 

“Robin?” 

He glanced at her, managing a slight, tightlipped smile as he reached down and wiped the tears out of the corner of her eyes with the pad of his thumb. “Right here, love.” 

But they didn’t seem like the right words. Her eyes grew dramatically and she shook her head, her breath quickening like she was on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Darling—“

“Robin, my…my…”

“It’s alright—“ 

“No,” she interrupted. “You…you don’t understand. My photo album.” 

Photo album? His brows creased. “What photo album?” 

“It’s in my bedroom, I have to go get it.” She lunged forward, ready to jump back in, but he held her, wrapped his arms around her and tightened them when she began squirming. “Robin, _please_. I have to get it. It’s all I’ve got left of Daddy.” 

He relented. Idiotic, wasn’t it? 

Regina spoke fondly of her father, Henry. She was his little girl, the apple of his eye. He died when she was younger, ten or eleven, Robin couldn’t remember the exact age she told him. The man’s heart wasn’t the healthiest, and with a long waiting list in his condition, they just weren’t too hopeful. They prepared for the worst, and the worst came not long after her birthday. 

They weren’t rich by any means, and according to Regina, there wasn’t much to her father’s name aside from the house her mother still lived in, an old car that wasn’t worth much, a gramophone that didn’t work, a few thousand bucks saved away for a rainy day…and that photo album. 

She never mentioned that one before. 

But, judging by the way the tears continued to fall, it meant a lot to her. 

So, he went in.

* * *

It all happened too quickly. One minute she was being comforted by Robin, the other, his arms were replaced by a heavy blanket and he was sprinting inside. The crowd shouted, strangers and friends alike, asking him to stop. Pleading with him to stand back. The firefighters were close, the sound of the sirens growing louder by the second. But he was too damn stubborn to listen. 

Regina’s eyes widened in alarm and she pried off the foreign hands off her shoulders to follow. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled out. 

“Your album!” Robin replied, his voice just barely loud enough to hear among all the other noises. 

No. God, no. “To hell with the album! Robin, come back!” she pleaded. But he was too far gone, dodging the roaring fire and disappearing into the house, and she was held back. No amount of struggling managed to free her from their tight grips. No amount of begging and tears managed to convince them. 

And she wished they did. 

She might’ve caught Robin before he ventured too far and knocked some sense into him. The album wasn’t worth the risk of him getting hurt. 

But she didn’t, and she never saw him again.

* * *

“You’re a liar, you know that?” Regina whispered, her voice thick with emotions. She was on the verge of tears, had been almost all the time ever since he passed away five years ago. Had it really been that long already? It felt like only yesterday. “You said you wouldn’t leave me. You promised you wouldn’t, and now you’re gone. I told you to let go of that stupid album. It wasn’t worth it. It isn’t worth it, Robin.” Her voice trembled and she sniffled, reaching to trace a hand over his headstone. 

This wasn’t how it was meant to be. 

He shouldn’t be buried six feet under. His name shouldn’t be carved on a stone. He should’ve been right here with her instead, waking her up with tickles as he usually did and making fun of her badly shaped pancakes. Not a single time did she end up making perfect circles. They should be fighting over Monopoly and him stealing all the lands he knew she planned on buying or going over the rules time after time again, and he should be keeping her safe after a horror movie she’d so stubbornly insist on watching, be her source of comfort. Not his shirts. They weren’t the same, but she felt a little close to him whenever she wore or hug one real tight. It still smelled like him, only barely. His scent was gradually fading. 

“You never made it out, not alive anyways, and I’m standing here alone now because you just had to go and play the role of the hero, didn’t you?” Her vision blurred with unshed tears, throat ached as she continued swallowing her sobs, trying her best to stay quiet. It was hard when all she wanted to do was let it all out. 

“Mommy?”

Perhaps, she wasn’t exactly all alone. 

Regina looked back at the little boy standing behind her and reached out for him. His dark curls bounced with every step he took toward her, burrowing into her without an invitation and wrapping his arms around her. He was her blessing. A bittersweet surprise she found out about just a week after the fateful day. Without him, she would’ve lost herself. 

“Are you sad?” Hs words were muffled against her neck, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling at that. She tried being discreet but Roland, sweet Roland was too observant. 

“A bit,” she admitted with a sniffle, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He moved back, and she flashed him a halfhearted smile, one he returned bigger, his dimples on full display, then rubbed his small hands over her cheeks. Sweet angel, just like his father. 

“It’s okay,” Roland soothed, and she nodded. It wasn’t. It would never be a hundred percent okay. But it wasn’t all so terrible. She still had him. 

“I know, baby.” 

“Daddy won’t like it if he looks down from heaven and sees you all sad.” 

“No, he won’t,” Regina agreed. The wider her smile grew for his sake, the more tears filled her eyes. “Come here.” She beckoned, and little Roland wasted no time throwing himself in her arms again and hugging her tight. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mommy.” 

“And I love you, too…” she whispered, reaching one hand toward the headstone, fingertips brushing over Robin’s name. “I’m so, so sorry it took me too long to say it. I love you, and I miss you.”

* * *

 


End file.
